POX
by Mari217
Summary: What's got Catherine worried and Steve not feeling like himself?


_AN: Special Thanks to Julie Bellon for beta-ing! How awesome is it that a **novelist** took time to beta my fic? Julie, girl, you are the best! HUGS! Buy Julie's novels. Visit her blog, you won't be sorry_! ldswritermom dot blogspot dot com

_**This one's for my McRoller girls, all of you, because you "get me".**_

_**...**_

_**POX ** _

**Hilton Hawaiian Village, Thursday 9:30 p.m.**

…

"'Night, guys. Good work." Steve nods to his team as they walk toward the parking lot of the Hilton, where they'd been decompressing over drinks and food after wrapping up a grueling case that had included thirty six hours of no sleep. They actually had Friday off, unless a situation came up.

"Night, Boss. Get some sleep, you look beat."

"Worse than the rest of you?" Steve notes the dark circles on her pretty face and how her shoulders slumped slightly from fatigue.

"Well, yeah. You look kinda pale. Rest a little."

"I'm fine, Kono." Steve was curious at her concern. It'd been a rough case, and they all looked a little worse for wear, even after stopping at HQ to shower and change before dinner.

Danny snorts. "Y'know what, SuperSEAL? She's being polite, 'cause, actually, you look like shit." He stops Steve's retort with a raised hand. "Seriously, man, get outta here. Go home. Cath, make sure he skips his thousand-mile swim at 4 a.m. huh?" Catherine's smile at Danny's sarcasm-veiled concern results in him giving her a quick hug as they head toward their separate cars. "C'mon, Chin, I'll drop you off at work so you can get your bike."

"Thanks, Brah, see you guys Monday." Chin chuckles at Steve's look as they follow Kono out to the cars.

Still puzzling at Kono and Danny's comments when they reach Catherine's Corvette, Steve automatically reaches for her keys. "I'll drive, Cath."

"No. No you won't." She playfully swats his hand away, going around to the driver's side. "You haven't slept two hours in two days. Get in."

"Jeez, okay."

She looks startled at the ease with which he agrees, glancing at him over the roof of the car, suddenly serious. "Hey, _are_ you okay? Really?"

They climb in and he nods, his signature smirk in place. "Let's go home and I'll prove it to you." Leaning over to kiss her, he murmurs "all night" against her lips.

"You're on, Commander." When he winces and pinches the bridge of his nose, she reaches for her purse and fishes out two Tylenol. "Here. For that headache you don't have."

Steve rolls his eyes and swallows the pills, once again amazed by how well she knows him. He drops another quick kiss on her lips before leaning back in the seat. "Thanks."

…

**McGarrett Residence 10:00 p.m.**

…

"So glad to be home." Catherine sighs upon entering the foyer, stopping to lean her forehead against Steve's for a brief moment. Steve sets the alarm and turns back quickly to snake his free arm around her waist, his hand slipping under the bottom of her T-shirt as he pulls her with him toward the steps.

Once upstairs, Catherine kisses him in the bedroom doorway. "Give me a minute." she says, heading for the bathroom.

"'Kay." His response is muffled by the shirt he's pulling over his head. She takes less than five minutes, but by the time she reenters the bedroom, Steve's sprawled on his back, fast asleep, his clothes and boots in a pile on the floor. Catherine shakes her head, thinking how the smile that after all these years still makes her stomach flip a little, didn't fully reach Steve's eyes all evening. He was far more dog-tired than he'd ever let on.

"Not proving _anything_ tonight, are we, Commander?" she whispers. It was _very_ unlike Steve to fall asleep on her, let alone leave his clothes tossed around, unless of course, she'd helped remove them in a hasty manner. Watching him shift and mumble before relaxing in deeper sleep, Catherine picks up the button-down, T-shirt and cargos, as she reflects on the case they'd just wrapped and why it had all of them fried.

Nearly a hundred illegal immigrants - mostly children – had been saved from human traffickers. Catherine was dead on her feet as well, but even after a firefight, Steve and Danny took the emotional brunt of it. They'd sat with dozens of frightened children until Children's Services had arrived, refusing to leave them with just the overwhelmingly busy FBI and DOD agents on the scene. They'd argued with Grover that it was because Steve spoke Mandarin and Danny was 'great with kids', but Catherine knew better. Neither man would leave before the kids were in safe hands. The partners had sat for nearly twelve hours, while suffering from adrenaline dump, trying to soothe children who'd been through an ordeal that would give any adult nightmares. That was followed by two full days of wrapping up with the FBI, DOD and Interpol, before they'd finally swung by HQ to clean up, gone out for food and drinks at the Hilton and headed home to crash.

Catherine sighs, remembering the level of patience and kindness Steve had exhibited while interacting quietly with two girls Grace's age as he'd reassured them that the CPS workers wouldn't hurt them. It tore at her to see dismay darken his handsome features, as the older child had clung to him, explaining their ordeal. The look of sorrow he gave Catherine as he pressed his business card into the hand of the youngsters' sobbing mother, a terrified young woman of no more than twenty five herself, had raised a lump in her throat.

Her heart full, Catherine gazes at Steve's sleeping face for another second before she undresses, crawls in beside him, and placing a soft kiss on his shoulder, is asleep herself in minutes.

…

**3:15 a.m.**

Catherine stirs, and feeling uncomfortably warm, kicks off the light blanket which Steve draws up around himself, shivering in his sleep. Coming more fully awake, she realizes she's warm because Steve is pressed against her back, positively _emanating_ heat. "Steve?" She whispers. Not getting a response, she places a hand on his face. "Steve…"

"G'back t'sleep, s'early."

"Steve, wake up. You've got a fever."

" 'm fine." He mumbles, trying to roll away from her but she sits up and leans over him.

"Steve!" Insistent now, she gets through and he opens his eyes.

"What?" He looks at her blearily.

"You're burning up, do you _feel_ sick?"

"'m good."

"Like hell, you're good." she moves her hand to his forehead. "God, you're like a furnace." Concerned now, she sits bolt upright, her voice taking on a worried edge. "How sick do you feel?"

"I'm fin…" He stops at her look.

"Don't bullshit me. The _truth, _please."

He meets her eyes. "I've got the chills. My head hurts. Okay?"

Her voice gentles at his reluctant admission. "Okay. Thank you."

"But I just need some sleep, I'll be fine."

She sighs at the short lived victory. "How long have you had the headache?"

Clearly resigned to the fact that she's not going to let him go back to sleep without getting some more answers, he pushes himself up against the pillows. "Couple of days."

"A couple of _days_?"

"Yeah. Two, three. Whatever."

"Steve…" She studies him for a second, frowning in the dim light, and runs her hand over the exposed skin of his chest. Grimacing slightly at what she feels. He's too hot, and while the fever concerns her, the bumps under her fingers worry her more. 'What the hell?' She thinks, reaching across to turn on the lamp.

"…'s bright." He winces.

She calmly masks her worry and reaches to pull down the blanket for a better look.

Steve grabs her wrist, his gaze adorably sheepish "Cath, I feel like crap, I don't think I …"

"_Wow. _Now I _know_ you're sick, but I wasn't suggest…" she shakes her head at the man who hadn't let being hit by a speeding car stop him from _very_ _enthusiastically_ making up for their missed Valentine's Day. "Umm… did you ever have the chicken pox?"

"The _what_?"

"Look." She nods at his chest.

Yanking the blanket aside, Steve looks down to see what Catherine felt; raised, red bumps covering his chest and abs. "Holy shit."

"That" she points, raising an eyebrow, "looks like chicken pox. You never had them as a kid?"

"No! Hell, no. I _never_ get sick, _you_ know that."

"You never _admit_ you're sick." She says gently. Sadness for the independent kid, who felt he had no one to tell when he felt ill, tugs at her heart. Steve's traumatic teenage years had formed that particular characteristic. Being a SEAL had merely cemented it.

"Well, whatever. Mary had them. I remember my folks were shocked when I didn't catch them." Shaking his head he repeats "Holy shit." Then his brow furrows in concern for her. "You've had 'em, right? If not, you've gotta get out of here, Cath, you'll…"

"Relax, I'm not going anywhere." Catherine slides out of bed, pulling on his discarded shirt, and he hears water running in the bathroom. When she returns, she hands him two Advil and water which he takes without a fuss, another testament to the fact he's feeling worse that he'd initially let on. He sinks back down.

"I've had them." She reassures him. "Besides, they're contagious before they show, so you've already …ahem... _exposed_ me." She smirks. "_Repeatedly_."

Steve returns a half smile, until a cold, wet cloth lands on his chest. "Jesus, Catherine!"

"We need to keep the fever in check. Put that on your head." She's reaching for her phone.

"Who're you calling?"

"I'm googling chicken pox, unless you'd prefer I call ...oh, I don't know … _Doris_, and…"

He cocks an eyebrow "Seriously? You're _seriously_ gonna finish that sentence?"

She giggles "Of course not. C'mon. Lie back down. You're going to feel worse before you feel better. I'm going to call Max, actually. It says here an anti-viral will help. He can write a prescription. It also says you'll be light sensitive." Switching off the bedside lamp, she crawls back in bed beside him, grabbing the balled up cloth from his hand and smoothing it over his forehead and eyes. "We'll get some meds into you as soon as I can reach Max."

"Good. I'll be fine by Monday."

"Nope. Sorry, you're down for a week, at least."

"Cath, I've taken less time off for a gunshot wound, no way in hell am I taking a week…" He moves to sit up, but her hand on his chest stops him.

"Gunshot wounds aren't _contagious_. You can't go out. Not until the rash is scabbed over. You'll spread it. I'm going to go grab you some water and juice." She gets up and crosses the room, stopping at the doorway. "Relax, Steve, please?"

He gives in and turns over, looking for all the world like a disgruntled little boy, but within a minute, he's asleep and Catherine resumes her trek to the kitchen, while placing the call to Max.

**7:00 a.m. Friday **

"Steve? Wake up."

"Whatsamatter?"

"Max is here, he brought meds for you. Chicken pox, remember?" She holds out a pill bottle and a glass of water. "Think you could eat something?"

"Commander. How are you feeling?"

Catherine can see Steve register the wrong-on-so-many-levels fact that Max Bergman is in his bedroom, standing next to his girlfriend and that they're both staring at him; and she smiles encouragingly at him as cracks open an eye. "No. No food, thanks, and I feel like shit. Aren't chicken pox supposed to itch? Why's it feel like I'm being burned by cigarettes?"

"That's because it's nerve pain, Commander. When …ahem… _older_ people contract the varicella virus the pain is more like the type experienced when one has shingles. Patients can experience pain akin to burning, pinpricks, or sudden shocks of electricity, which can be particularly severe."

"You don't say, Max?" Steve grinds out.

"Steve…" Catherine's voice catches briefly, as she remembers the marks that had taken months to fade. She knew Steve had firsthand knowledge of exactly how severe electrical shock pain could be.

Catching Catherine's tone, his voice softens, even though his skin is burning like fire. "Cath, it's not that bad, really. I'm good. Here, gimme the pills, and Max, thanks."

"You are quite welcome, Commander. Take the anti-virals, and ibuprofen for fever and pain. Catherine, call if you need me. If he starts to cough, especially" he turns to Steve "we don't want you developing varicella pneumonia."

"Great." He swallows the pills and flops back down with a disgusted sigh. That's all he needs, something that'll cause more time away from work.

Catherine walks Max out. "Thanks again, Max, really."

"No problem. I'm sure the commander contracted them from one of the children he and Detective Williams were comforting a few days ago. I will contact CPS and inform them that they will need to quarantine the youngsters for the next 10 days, as they wouldn't have been vaccinated. Please, call if you need to, and good luck keeping the Commander off his feet for the next several days." With that, Max leaves and Catherine goes back upstairs.

She's tired, but relieved that Steve has a treatable case of chicken pox. She'd known of two seemingly healthy SEALs suddenly coming down with conditions from a dormant virus they'd been exposed to on a mission. When she'd first discovered Steve's fever and felt the skin rash, those officers had flashed through her mind.

When she reaches the bedroom doorway, Steve's sitting up, looking at her with slightly glassy eyes, fumbling in the bedside table. "Cath?"

"Yes?" She can't hold back a smile because a sick, spotted, cranky Steve McGarrett looks, well, adorable.

"_Where_ is my weapon?"

"I locked it up because Danny's coming over with Grace."

"Oh, my God, you called Danny?"

"No. Danny called me, because you didn't answer your cell. Steve, I had to tell him. You may be 'off', but you're all on call. He's in charge if you're sick, how could I not tell him?"

"You realize I'll never hear the end of this?"

"Of being sick?" She moves to join him on the bed, reaching out to feel his forehead.

"Of having _chicken pox_, Cath, like a ten year old."

Another barely suppressed smile. "Steve …"

"Don't '_Steve'_ me. He's gonna make my life hell, and … wait … Gracie's coming? Is that safe?"

"Grace's had the vaccine and even had a mild case of chicken pox, so she's fine, and it's her week with Danny. She was positively squealing when she heard her Uncle Steve was sick. She couldn't wait to help you. If Danny didn't agree to let her come along, she may have actually imploded. They're just coming to drop off some groceries and stuff. Now, you, finish this." She hands him the juice she'd brought up earlier. "Then sleep."

"Was sleepin'" he mumbles, downing the juice while Catherine settles next to him, sitting up against the headboard with a magazine. Within minutes, he's asleep, his arm across her lap, head resting against her hip, comforted by the circles she's gently tracing through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

…

**Noon**

"Uncle Steve … wow… you look bad…um, I … I mean…I'm sorry you're sick." Grace stops short when she realizes her favorite uncle is sleeping. His neck and face dotted with the angry looking rash.

"Grace." Danny holds out a hand, stopping her just inside the doorway. "I know you want to help and I'm sure Uncle Steve will be really happy to see you when he wakes up, but why don't you go downstairs and watch some TV while I help Aunty Catherine in here a little bit, okay?"

'But I wanna help Uncle Steve, Danno."

"You know what, Grace? It'd be a big help if you could make us some sandwiches. Think you could do that?" Catherine tells her, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, guiding her into the hall.

"Okay." Happy for the task, she runs down the stairs.

Danny studies Steve, his snarky comment dying, and turns to Catherine. "He looks out of it. You should've called."

"I know, but he was doing okay, the fever was better. It's just since you said you were coming over with groceries and stuff that his fever's gone up again. It's 103. I keep dosing him with Advil but Max said I should get him in a cool shower if it doesn't break. He _is_ kind of out of it _and_ pretty much dead weight. Can you just help me get him into the bathroom?"

"You got it, let's go." Danny crosses the room, "C'mon Babe, up and at 'em."

"Danno?" Steve's bloodshot eyes take in his best friend and girlfriend hovering over him "Leave m'lone, 'm 'kay."

"Bullshit. Let's get that fever down, partner. Gracie had chicken pox, the first 24 hours are the worst, and … ugh, Jeez, what the hell do you weigh?"

"Shu'p, Danno."

Danny gets his partner to his feet while Catherine grabs a change of clothes for her and Steve, then together they walk him to the bathroom.

"You okay from here?" Danny asks as Catherine turns on the shower.

"G'way 'm fine."

"Not asking _you_, Steven."

"We're good, thanks, Danny." Catherine tells him "I can get him under the water." Her helping Steve was one thing; but he'd be less than happy if Commander _'I'm fine, it's only a 103 degree fever'_ had to be dragged into the shower by his partner.

Danny backs out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him, before Catherine strips Steve and drags him under the spray.

"Danno!?" Grace arrives with the tray of sandwiches she'd proudly made.

"Whoa, Monkey, that looks delicious."

"Thank you!" She beams. "Is Uncle Steve worse? Why were you all in the bathroom? Is he throwing up?" She wrinkles her nose. Grace hated to be sick to her stomach, almost as much as her dad did.

"No, he's okay. He was a little wobbly from the fever so he needed some help getting to the shower to cool off. As soon as he does, I think he'll be ready to eat one of these great sandwic…"

"Shit!" Steve's voice cuts through the bathroom door, in obvious reaction to the cool water hitting his feverish skin.

Grace giggles at her uncle's language and Danny thanks God it wasn't a worse expletive. "He's sick, Babe, he gets a pass on the swear jar today." Let's go downstairs and make some lemonade to go with your fabulous lunch, okay?" He leads his daughter out of the room.

In the bathroom, Steve's suddenly alert and trying to reach around Catherine to shut the water.

"Steve! Leave it! Don't fight me, here, or we're both gonna fall." Catherine braces herself against the wall, guiding him back under the spray.

"It's damn cold!"

"It's _cool_, your fever was 103, and .. woah" he sways just a little and she steadies him, "you just need to stay put a minute to get your body temp down."

"This sucks."

"Gracie is out there."

"Okay, this _stinks_, Cath."

"Not exactly the most fun _I've_ had in a shower with _you_, either, Commander." She reaches back, adjusting the water, and places a hand on his forehead. "See, you're cooler already. Now, can you finish up if I get out, or do you need help?"

Catherine can see his eyes running over her, registering her soaking tank and shorts.

"You got in the shower fully dressed? I was that out of it? Cath, thank you, I'm good. Dry off." She looks skeptical. He kisses her lightly to reassure her. "Really."

Tilting her head, she decides he's steady enough and steps out of the stall while he showers, standing close just in case, hoping the fever's broken and he'll remain steady. A minute later, he's done, and they're both in dry clothes when she cracks open the bathroom door and calls "Danny?"

"Right here!' Danny puts down the pitcher of lemonade he's carrying up from the kitchen, and offers a hand to his much more alert but slow moving best friend, who waves it away. "Okay, Steven, be that way. But if you fall, I am _not_ picking your over-grown, 3,000 calorie-a-day, exercise freak butt up off the floor!"

"Danno! That's not nice, Uncle Steve's sick." Grace admonishes, knowing her two favorite men in the world aren't serious when they bicker. Danny and Grace pull chairs up to the side of the bed and Grace hands Steve a sandwich, watching him intently with crossed arms and an expression that Catherine decides can only be described as one of Danny's, while he picks at his food. Steve manages half a sandwich, some lemonade and a smile for his 'niece'.

"We brought you groceries and I made lunch, Uncle Steve."

"Thanks, Gracie, you did a great job."

"You're welcome. Oh, here." Grace hands him his phone.

"Monkey, why do you have Uncle Steve's phone?"

" 'Cause it rang when you were helping him. You need to call the Governor; he said it's a case but not an emergency. I told him you were sick. Uncle Chin called, too."

Steve dials Denning, placing the phone on speaker. "Governor, we're on speaker with with Detective Williams, Sir."

"Commander, Detective. I spoke to Detective Williams' daughter. She tells me you're ill."

"I'll be fine, Sir."

"You will remain _at home_ until you are no longer contagious, Commander. I do not need half the Palace staff infected with chicken pox, understood? Detective Williams, we have a situation to discuss, take me off speaker." Steve huffs in frustration and Grace snickers.

Danny indicates 'Yes' to Steve's mouthed 'caught a case?' as he gathers the remains of lunch, switching off the phone and tossing it back to Steve.

"Danny, leave that."

"I've got it, Cath. We put a ton of food in the fridge, and there's juice, too. Don't let him drive you too crazy." He turns toward Grace. "Sorry, Monkey, I need to go to work. I'll get Mom to pick you up, okay?"

"No! Danno, it's your week, and I can help here." she swivels to Catherine. "Can't I?"

"Monkey, Uncle Steve needs to rest."

"Please, Danno?"

"Danny, it's fine. Leave her with us."

"Cath, you've got your hands full already." Danny gestures toward Steve.

"Hey, Danny?" Steve calls.

"Yeah?"

He mouths _'bite me'_ to Danny so Grace doesn't hear.

"Feeling better enough to be a pain in the …" he glances at Grace "… _butt_, Steven? Okay, Babe, you can stay and help, but listen to Catherine, promise?"

"Yes!" She hugs her dad and nods vigorously.

"Update me, Danny!" Steve yells as his partner leaves the room.

"No working!" Danny and Grace say together, while she walks her dad to the door.

Smiling at Gracie's 'orders' Steve calls Chin.

"Steve, you've got chicken pox? You okay?"

"Yeah, Chin. I'm good. You're on speaker. I need you to send the Krebbs file to Danny's phone and send a copy to me."

"No problem, but Steve, you might want to talk to Grace about answering your cell, Brah."

"What are you talkin' about?" Steve glances at Catherine.

"Well, she may or may not have mentioned that Uncle Steve was in the shower … _with_ Aunty Catherine … _and_ Danno …"

Catherine loses it, collapsing in laughter and Steve grimaces at her. "Jeez."

"Just sayin'. If Grover got hold…"

"Chin?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd tell you my thoughts on that but Gracie's here…" He hangs up to Chin's laughter.

**Next morning**

After another all-nighter and a solved case, Danny lets himself in with the spare key Steve gave him for emergencies. Turning off the alarm he enters the quiet house to find a sight that brings a smile to his tired features. His fifty-five-pound, eleven-year-old daughter is standing with a finger to her lips, _guarding_ the 6 foot-plus, BAMF Navy SEAL and his kick-ass girlfriend, who are fast asleep in front of the TV, the dreaded_ Notebook _flashing unseen on the screen. Danny barks a laugh, snapping a photo with his cell, and Catherine jumps to attention.

"Danny! God, you scared me. Grace, why didn't you wake me, Sweetheart?"

"You only fell asleep like a second ago. You looked really tired, and I slept all night in Mary's room. I was watching the movie, anyway." She walks over to hug her dad, tilting her face up to his. "We couldn't get Uncle Steve to stay upstairs anymore, so I told him how when I had the chicken pox, we watched_ The Little Mermaid_ and I got to stay on the sofa. Tell him how I listened and was a good patient, so I got better faster."

"You're a good nurse, Monkey. Looks like Uncle Steve's better?" He raises an eyebrow at Catherine.

"Yeah, he is. Fever's down to 100 and he's eating. He's just got to wait out the rest, until he scabs over. God knows he's not going to be easy to keep inside."

"He's right here and he can hear you both." Steve growls from the sofa.

"Well, hello, Sunshine. Welcome back."

Grace giggles at her dad's teasing, even if her Uncle Steve's not quite amused.

"Grace, say goodbye, Babe. Danno needs to go home and crash."

"Bye." Grace hugs Catherine and blows a kiss to Steve before heading toward the door. "Feel better."

"Thanks Gracie, you're a great nurse."

"You're welcome, Uncle Steve. Be good, no scratching!" She giggles.

Catherine smiles. "Thanks, guys. Grace, you were a big help, Hon."

His blue eyes twinkling, Danny says "I'm going to take my very beautiful, very caring child home now, so, Cath, if you need anything, like … I don't know … a _tranquilizer_ _gun_, call me." While herding Grace outside to the sound of Catherine's laughter, he turns at the doorway and calls "Steve?"

"What, Danny?"

Danny reaches back in and drapes an arm over Catherine's shoulder, giving her a quick hug. "I was right, you know. Best thing, _ever_, partner, best thing." Catherine beams and plants a kiss on Danny's cheek. Not getting the reference, but happy Danny reciprocates her feeling that he's family.

Steve, feeling better, smiles at his best friend and girlfriend, "When you're right, you're right, Danny."

-...

_End thx for reading_

_The POX story was based on real events. I had the chicken pox at age 30. There are no words to describe how much they suck when you are an adult. That said, Not McG also had them a few years later while on TAD in Keflavik, Iceland, also not a good scenario. The first 24 hours are hell on wheels, and it took 6 days before they scabbed over. _


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